Eau de What?
by Riley4
Summary: This is in response to a challenge, and is a Meg/Ben fic


Eau de What?  
  
By Riley  
  
Pairings: BF/MT  
  
Rating: General.  
  
Type: Challenge. Humour. Romance.   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and I'm not making any money from this story.  
  
Note: I set a challenge on my group, I Am Not Made Of Stone, for them to give me a list of things they would like me to include in a Meg fic. Janice was kind enough to reply back with this bizarre list: -  
  
- Salt and Pepper shakers  
  
- A skunk  
  
- Shoe powder  
  
- Vicks Vapor rub  
  
- A pregnant Meg meets Bob Fraser  
  
- Cloutier gets a pie in the face  
  
- Meg meets Moffatt  
  
Inspector Meg Thatcher sneezed into a tissue. One of her subordinates, Constable Turnbull, ventured a look at her, covertly, under the brim of his Stetson. Her nose was red and coupled with the sneeze he'd just heard, the signs all pointed to her obviously having a cold. She really shouldn't have come to the charity fun day. She should be at home resting, especially as she was pregnant. But the Inspector was an extremely stubborn woman. Turnbull scanned the crowd for Constable Fraser, and signalled for him to come over.   
  
"Yes, Turnbull?" Fraser looked patiently at the younger Constable.   
  
"Sir, you asked me to inform you if the Inspector sneezed at all, well she just has."  
  
Fraser's face wore concern and he nodded. "Thank you kindly Turnbull."  
  
"You're welcome Sir. Do you think you'll be able to manage to persuade her to go home?"  
  
"I'll certainly give it a try." Fraser walked off in the direction of the nearby Inspector. Once at her side, he gently touched her elbow and indicating he wanted a word, he led her away from Superintendant Moffatt.   
  
"What is it Constable? I was in the middle of a very important discussion with the Superintendant."  
  
"Yes, I'm sorry Sir, I can see how discussing the correct type of shoe powder for ones riding boots is of the upmost importance, however, don't you think your health should take precedence?"  
  
"Oh don't start that again Be. . .Fraser, I'm fine. I still have another month before I need to go on maternity leave and despite your combined efforts with Turnbull, I intend to fulfil it."  
  
"Meg. . ."  
  
"Inspector when on duty, remember!"  
  
"Not when we're discussing the health of our child."  
  
Meg rolled her eyes. "The baby's fine Ben. Healthy as can be."  
  
"Yes, I know, and I intend to keep it that way. Which is why I think you should allow me to take you home." She started to protest and he cut her off. "You have a cold at the moment Meg, but if you don't rest it could turn into flu."  
  
"Ben stop being so melodramatic. It isn't even a bad cold."  
  
"Oh really?" He looked around the room. "Close your eyes please."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I want to try a little experiment. Could you please close your eyes and stay here, I won't be a moment?"   
  
Knowing he was in one of his determined moods, and not wanting him to go into a long explanation, she complied and closed her eyes. When her eyes were closed, he walked over to one of the charity stalls and managed to borrow a pair of salt and pepper shakers. Coming back to her, he explained, "I am going to place two things under your nose, one after the other, I'd like you to tell me what they are." Fraser placed the salt shaker under her nose first. "What do you smell?" Meg took a sniff and then a longer one. Nothing. She sniffed again. Fraser smiled. "As I thought, you can't smell it can you?"  
  
"Yes I can."  
  
"Really? Then please do tell me what it is? Ah ah ah, no peeking."  
  
"All right, I'm not sure what it is. Try me on the next one."  
  
Fraser placed the pepper shaker under her nose. "What do you smell?"  
  
Still unable to smell anything, Meg decided to take a guess. She thought about which stalls were nearby. "Hotdog?"  
  
"A hotdog?" Fraser laughed. Meg opened her eyes and glared at him. She saw what he was holding and glared even more. If she couldn't smell pepper then he had a good point! "Not a bad cold eh? You couldn't even smell a skunk at the moment."  
  
"Maybe not, but I know I'm looking right at one."  
  
"Ooh, I think you've put her in a bad mood son. You know, you really shouldn't tease a pregnant woman. Once they're in a bad mood. . ." Bob Fraser shook his head, whistled and rocked back and forth on his feet. "Take your mother for instance, there was this one time. . .Well, let's just say there's no telling what they'll do!"   
  
"Dad not now please."  
  
"I'm only offering a bit of advice son."  
  
"All right, Ben, now I know I'm sick when I start hallucinating that your father's right here talking to you!"  
  
Both Ben and Bob stared at Meg. "You can see him?"   
  
"You mean I'm not hallucinating? Or maybe we both are?"  
  
"Er no. Neither of you are, well, at least I don't think so. I'm real enough, except I'm dead."  
  
Meg shook her head to try and clear it. "Ben, I think I do want to go home. Maybe after a long sleep and some Vicks Vapor Rub I'll stop seeing dead people!"  
  
"If that's the cure, maybe I'll try it with you!" Ben said.  
  
"Well, that's not very nice son. I can put it down to hormones with your wife, but you've no excuse to be rude." In a huff, Bob Fraser evaporated into nothing.  
  
"So you'll let me take you home then?"  
  
"Yes. Oh, there's just one thing I want to do first. Don't worry, it'll only take a few seconds." Taking hold of his hand, she led him through the crowds to one of the charity stalls. Sitting on a chair at the back of the stall, and looking thoroughly unhappy, was Henri Cloutier. Ben and Meg exchange huge smiles. After Ben had paid the fee, Meg picked up a custard pie, took aim and threw it at Henri. . .bullseye. . .she got him right in the face. 


End file.
